They walked on in silence to the very edge of the sea, and stood watching the sunlit-crested waves come rolling in. Margery was deep in thought, and Miss Lawson watched her anxiously. Her heart prompted her to speak out, to urge the girl to cast off her burden of gloom and turn once more to joy and happiness, but the sad young face looking across the sea stopped her. The afternoon sun descended lower and lower, and still Margery stood gazing at the sea. “The great sea, faultless as a flow’r, Throbs trembling under beam and breeze And laughs with love of th’ am’rous hour.” At last, as a gray cloud obscured the golden light for a time, she turned to Miss Lawson. “Let us go back,” she said, hurriedly, with a little shudder. “I am tired now.” Miss Lawson walked with her in silence. “I am an old woman,” she mused to herself, “this is beyond me. We have waited long and wearily, and yet she gets no better. I shall give in, and leave the rest to Stuart.” * * * * * A message sped swiftly from the fishing village to the great city. It was short, yet it brought a thrill of intense joy to Stuart Crosbie’s aching heart. There was no hope breathed in the words, but hope lived within his breast, as it had lived through all his weary waiting. He longed impatiently for the night to be gone--for the morning to come, and when the sun rose over the still sleeping city, he was speeding away from it to the sea. “Where shall we land you, sweet? On fields of strange men’s feet, Or fields near home, Or where the fire-flow’rs blow, Or where the flow’rs of snow, Or flow’rs of foam? We are in love’s hand to-day.” So sang his heart in glad anticipation of its joy. Happiness had been so long absent, it must come now. Misery, despair, sorrow, were all forgotten--he lived again! * * * * * “You will be back to-night?” asked Margery, as she put a waterproof round Miss Lawson’s form. “You promise me?” “I promise,” said Miss Lawson, briskly. “Ugh, what a day! Margery, take my advice; don’t go out.” “It will not hurt me; I like the wind and the spray.” “Then wrap up well. Pauline”--turning to the maid--“if her ladyship does go out, see that she puts on something sensible.” “How little you trust me!” said Margery, with a faint smile. “But are you sensibly clad, may I ask?” “Two shawls, a waterproof, goloshes, and an umbrella,” observed Miss Lawson, quietly. Inwardly she felt a thrill of satisfaction; Margery seemed brighter, more natural, more her old self to-day. “Then good-by, dear.” Margery put her lips to the elder woman’s. “Give my love to Mrs. Fothergill and the doctor.” Miss Lawson nodded and walked away. “I am an old fool,” she declared, savagely, to herself, as she felt a tear roll down her cheek, “and I only hope I shall keep out of the way for some good!”